Skin, Flesh & Bone
by twh
Summary: George is finding it hard to cope with the death of Fred. Post war, non-slash.


I stared at the bed beside me, the bed that was once occupied by a seemingly mirror image of me. Eight months, eight. Every second felt like pure torture and everything seemed to have begged a reminder of him. I keep hearing voices that flowed in one ear and out the other, begging me to try to move on. I knew deep down, buried under all that guilt, pain & sorrow, that Fred would want me to move on. But how could I when even the thought of attempting it seemed like poison and stung like acid pops. I've lost the other half of me.

Fred was such a joy to be around and a huge source of inspiration for me. He taught me to stand up for myself and to never regret, but regret is all that I'm feeling now. It disgusted me, how I could not even live by one of his wishes for me. I feel like such a failure for letting down the only person that has always been there for me despite the consequences that may have came along with it. Why wasn't I there when he was attacked, I could have defended him and even if it was all futile, I could have died with him or at least have stayed by his side as he passed. Why did he have to die, why was he the one to die, why couldn't it be me instead? If I could do as the people say and "sell your soul to the Devil", I would do so in a heartbeat. But the war made me realize something about the Devil, it doesn't exist. It's just something that people created out of nothingness to take the blame for any misfortune that may come their way or for whatever wrong that they may have done, for the real Devil lives in all of us.

Memories whizzed around in my head, bittersweet ones. Fred has always been there for me for as long as I could remember, protected me even if it meant taking the blame for something that I did, from accidentally burning a hole in Ron's tongue with an acid pop when we were barely nine to causing his arachnophobia. And of course, the most unforgettable(and deadly) of them all, tricking Ron in making the unforgivable curse. I'm just glad that mum caught us, I shudder to think of what would happen if I would to lose another. Time went by and came our letters, glee and excitement was plastered all over 2 identical faces, inventing our very first product (and testing it out on snotty little first-years, much to the distaste of Hermione), breaking Harry out of his "prison cell" in dad's flying Ford Anglia, the aging potion that back fired (at least we grew old together), our escape out of Hogwarts and then eventually opening our very first branch of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes at 93 Diagon Alley.

Saying that I was a wreck without Fred would be an understatement, I am feeling emotions that cannot be described by mere words. I've never understood why people said that, I always assumed that they were just lost for words or just simply hyperbole. But I do now. I can't even look into a mirror without crumbling. I wasn't ready to move on. I still sense his presence, like he hasn't left me and this world yet , like he's still here watching over me. He was just out of reach, fingertips barely touching him, unable to grab on and pull him back from limbo.

"Fred, why did you have to leave me..."

Tears fell, staining the hardwood floor below me, washing me away with the tide into a sea of my own burning tears, drowning me in the wisps of fire.

"Oi Forge!"

Stunned, I cocked my head up. I must be going mad, that was Fred's voice. But how?

"George!"

I looked out the window beside me. Are my eyes deceiving me? Or maybe it's some sort of magic that forced memories out of my head, like a pensieve that wasn't confined, or maybe it was a mirage. But that inch of hope was enough for me.

"Fred…"

I rushed down, tripping over my feet. The door creaked open, thoughts were whizzing around in my head. What if, when the door opens he isn't there? What if it was a mere figment of my overactive and unstable imagination that had leaked out from my fragile state of mind. Eyes closed, I prayed that when I opened them that nothing was messing around with my mind.

And there he was, my doppelganger staring back at me. It seemed as though time had frozen. I reached out, shakily cupping his face. Skin, flesh, bone. He was real, and most importantly, he was back. I rushed into his arms, a frenzy of warmth, love, comfort overcame me as I tried to get words out in midst of my tears.

"Hhh…"

"shhh… don't"

So many questions. Who? What? How? Why?

Then it came to me. How Fred Weasley escaped from the clutches of death. How he managed to escape the Death Eaters after the war. Why he had to wait so long before returning. That ghoul living in the attic of The Burrows had been awfully quiet during Christmas and Fred had always been careful when it came to You-Know-Who. He was smarter than everyone thought.

I choked back the tears and managed a few words.

"Promise you won't leave me, ever"

"I promise..."

* * *

><p>AN: So how was it? My first attempt at non-romance-ish brotherly love, I still think I kinda made it sound a little bit slash though. Does it seem that way? Please review and let me know what you think of it.<p>

-May Sanders-Stokes


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